Chapter 139 Chess Player

The heavy oak door blocked out the outside clamor, but it couldn’t stop the pervasive smell of gunpowder and the iron-like tension in the air.

Dekar sat in his office like a silent statue, as always, but this time, the large desk in front of him had been cleared, replaced by a map that almost covered the entire surface.

The map meticulously depicted the full view of Heer City, dotted with different colored thumbtacks and dense threads, marking the strongholds and activity areas of the Evil Claws.

“Report.”

After a brief knock, a young switchboard operator pushed open the door.

He walked quickly to the desk, his uniform collar open, his forehead beaded with fine sweat, and his breathing rapid.

Dekar stared at the map without lifting his head, his fingertips gently tapping a red dot in the industrial area.

“The Third Group encountered strong resistance while clearing the ‘Anvil’ stronghold. It has been confirmed that there are a large number of Walking Corpses and a small number of Spawn of Evil in the target area.”

The operator reported the progress of each group’s operations.

“Currently, one officer is seriously injured and one officer has died in the line of duty. We request support from the City Guard Bureau.”

Dekar was expressionless, as if the casualty figures reported by the operator were merely insignificant footnotes on the map.

After a moment of contemplation, he moved another nearby thumbtack over and instructed, “Tell the Third Group to hold on. Notify the nearest Sixth Group to immediately reinforce them after they complete their area operation.”

The operator hastily jotted down Dekar’s instructions and continued his report.

“Currently, the Evil Claws stronghold in the Shang River Avenue area of the commercial district has been completely cleared.”

Hearing this news, Dekar’s gaze finally moved from the map to the operator’s tired face.

He paused for a moment, as if confirming the weight of the information, or perhaps just simply looking. Then, Dekar extended his bony hand, removed a black thumbtack representing a “high-risk stronghold,” and casually dropped it into an empty metal tray.

“Very good. Tell them to rest and then immediately support the other action groups.”

“Yes!”

The operator, as if granted a great pardon, quickly saluted, turned, and left.

The scale of the City Guard Bureau’s operation tonight was truly enormous. Under the instruction of the City-State Council, all departments fully cooperated with the officers’ actions, launching a deadly strike against the chaotic forces in various areas.

Dekar took off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. Several action briefs were still scattered on the edge of the map, their paper edges crumpled from his unconscious squeezing.

“Next one.”

Dekar’s voice was calm, his gaze had returned to the map, and his finger slid to the next area marked with a blue line.

If all went as expected, the various action groups, carrying Dekar’s will, were fiercely attacking the Evil Claws strongholds entrenched there. In places he couldn’t see, countless people were bleeding.

Dekar felt no emotional fluctuation regarding this.

If anything, it was merely fatigue.

“Hoo…”

Dekar let out a long breath, his gaze sweeping to the corner of the office.

At some point, a small table had appeared there. As the Chief’s assistant, Hanna’s hands were dancing on a typewriter.

Seeing Dekar look at her, Hanna paused her typing, suspiciously asking, “You… do you want this part of me to be recorded too?”

Dekar was momentarily stunned, then affirmed, “Yes, record it. Everything that happens here tonight, whether it’s the operator’s reports, our words, or even my own changes in expression, you must record in detail, one by one.”

“Alright… alright.”

Hanna gave a bitter smile, squeezed her almost numb fingers hard, and continued to type furiously.

As Dekar’s assistant, Hanna was well aware of his personality, preferences, and his “rigorousness,” which she almost considered a quirk.

Dekar’s demand for “rigorousness” was almost abnormal. Time records had to be precise to the minute and second, and dialogue records had to include each other’s tone and expressions.

Normally, Hanna could handle it, but under the bloody operation tonight, both her mind and fingers were reaching their limits.

“’Anvil’ stronghold cleared…”

Hanna repeated as she typed, adding a cold stroke to this grand cleansing operation.

The office fell into a brief silence. Dekar’s gaze moved slowly across the map, like a chess player examining a chessboard.

Soon, another operator came to report the latest battle situation.

“The Ninth and Seventeenth Groups have been surrounded by Evil Claws…”

“A large explosion occurred in the industrial area, suspected to be a counterattack by the Evil Claws.”

“A large number of Walking Corpses have escaped to Flower River Avenue. The Twentieth Group is attempting to organize a defense.”

Time passed amidst gunshots, knocks on the door, reports, and the sound of pulling out thumbtacks. The tray gradually filled with thumbtacks, like excised tumors.

Dekar’s tightly furrowed brows gradually relaxed, and a faint smile even appeared on his cold face.

Until another operator pushed the door open.

“Chief!”

The operator gasped for breath and reported concisely, “Dai… Dailin’s group has encountered a Rank Three Mech-Soul User. This is beyond what they can handle. Requesting support!”

All the high-rank Transcendent of the Evil Claws had been thoroughly cleansed by the Soul Marrow Light during the meeting Dekar had secretly orchestrated.

Now, only some insignificant beings remained, which was why Dekar confidently launched the cleansing operation.

But now, there was actually one that had slipped through the net.

Dekar looked up and scrutinized the operator. “I remember you… Your name is Elton. Calm down.”

Elton swallowed hard and nodded vigorously.

Other operators could emotionlessly recite strings of casualty figures, but Elton couldn’t. Sirian and Dailin were not just his colleagues, but also his few friends.

Dekar’s gaze fell on the Water Gate System marker on the map—a special, blood-red marker.

His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, and he waved his hand, saying, “Alright, I know. Go back to work.”

“But… but they need support.”

Elton was at a loss. He had come to ask for help, but the Chief hadn’t responded. Although he wasn’t a Transcendent, he clearly understood the destructive power of a Rank Three, and his heart was burning with anxiety.

Dekar remained silent, his calm gaze like an abyss, almost swallowing Elton.

“This is part of the plan.”

“Alright… I understand.”

Elton clenched his fists, but still compromised and left, powerless.

Silence fell once again. In the silence, Hanna’s heart gradually grew anxious.

She had recorded the entire operation and naturally knew that there was no “plan” at all; it was just Dekar’s excuse to dismiss Elton.

But… why would he do that?

Hanna was both curious and uneasy, her words reaching her lips several times before she swallowed them back with effort.

She recalled the rumor from before.

Someone said that Chief Rolf had a very good private relationship with a certain young man in the City Guard Bureau.

Hanna remembered that person’s name.

Sirian.

It seemed Dekar intended to use tonight’s operation to dispose of Sirian. Perhaps this Mech-Soul User who suddenly appeared was someone he deliberately missed during the beheading operation.

“Dailin… Dailin…”

Suddenly, Dekar murmured another name, his expression slightly troubled, his fingers tapping restlessly on the ground.

After a period of struggle and hesitation, Dekar made up his mind and began counting down the time.

About five minutes later, Dekar pressed the bell, and the officer waiting outside pushed the door open.

“Notify the groups near Watergate Fortress that Dailin’s group is facing a Mech-Soul User and urgently needs support.”

Hanna recorded these words as usual, but this time, her unease grew more intense.

Why didn’t the Chief rescue them immediately, but deliberately waited so long?

Although she wasn’t very familiar with Dailin’s group, Hanna remembered that the highest rank among them was only Rank Two.

Perhaps they were already dead now… Oh, maybe that was the effect the Chief wanted.

He offered rescue, but arrived too late… A cold, curved blade tore through the air, bringing with it a harsh whistling sound, and fiercely slashed down towards Sirian’s head.

Sirian’s pupils contracted sharply. The glowing boiling sword fiercely parried upwards, and blade met blade in the nick of time!

Blinding sparks exploded, illuminating their ferocious faces. They stood their ground, neither willing to retreat, and a stalemate ensued.

The piercing shriek of metal violently rubbing against each other overpowered the roar of the water. Sirian’s arm muscles bulged, and the steel grating beneath his feet groaned and slightly deformed under the immense force.

Sirian shook the boiling sword, and the two separated as soon as they touched.

He staggered backward, shaken by the immense force, and the red glow on the boiling sword dimmed for a moment due to the impact. Daren’s steel body, however, was as steady as a rock, his hydraulic joints emitting a “hissing” sound.

“Haha!”

Amidst twisted laughter, the crimson bionic eye under the hood locked onto its prey, pouncing again without hesitation.

“Damn it, the intelligence said he was only Rank Two!”

Amidst Sirian’s curses, Daren’s elbow blade stabbed towards his heart like lightning.

A silver light forcefully intervened. Dailin burst to Daren’s side, swung a heavy punch, and dented the armor on his shoulder.

“Damn it, how would I know?!”

In a life-or-death situation, Dailin also abandoned his personal composure and cursed alongside Sirian.

Immediately after, he swung heavy punches, trying to suppress Daren and buy Sirian some breathing room, while also speculating.

“Could it be that the intelligence has expired?!”

In the records of the City Guard Bureau, similar incidents had occurred. Intelligence would state that the enemy was only Rank Two, but during combat, they would discover that the person had just been promoted to Rank Three a few days prior.

“How can we encounter something with such a low probability?!”

Sirian raised his jet revolver and unceremoniously emptied his soul marrow bullet.

“Who knows, maybe we’re just a bunch of unlucky bastards!”

Dailin twisted his body and slid, dodging Daren’s fatal stab.

“Damn it! Damn it!”

Sirian cursed incessantly.

He thrust out his boiling sword, its scorching tip melting through the protective casing and severing a fragile pipeline.

Amidst blue and white electrical sparks, Daren quickly retreated, his damaged mechanical joints trembling slightly, emitting an ominous low hum.